


Leave the Lonely Days

by Stacy LA Stronach (slashgirl)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Episode Tag, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-05-03
Updated: 2008-05-03
Packaged: 2017-10-10 21:53:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/104698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slashgirl/pseuds/Stacy%20LA%20Stronach
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post Elephant's memory.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Leave the Lonely Days

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to nebula99 for the beta and her friendship.
> 
> Written for rounds_of_kink  
> Prompt: Collecting injustices

_Funny how you can look in vain  
Living on nerves and such sweet pain, the loneliness that cuts so fine  
To find the face you've seen a thousand times_  
"5 Days in May"—Blue Rodeo

Reid stares at John's one year chip, flipping it through his fingers like a coin in one of his magic tricks. He knows he's damned lucky to still have his job. There probably wouldn't even be a review—Hotch has a way of taking care of those things. His own form of magic.

There are still a few hours left until they arrive home; Reid closes his eyes and tries to sleep, but Owen Savage's face flashes through his mind, then Ryan Phillips…and Nathan Harris…and Tobias Hankel. Reid rubs at his eyes before opening them. He needs a distraction…the want, the desire for oblivion, the need to forget is crashing through his veins and he wants to scream.

He'd thought that, somehow, saving Owen Savage's life would settle his cravings, make them go away. But it hasn't. Deep down, he'd known it wouldn't be that simple, that it _couldn't_ be that simple. He digs through his satchel for a deck of cards, a book, anything to distract him and comes up empty handed.

Wondering if any of the others are awake, Reid looks up the aisle of the semi-darkened plane; four of his team mates are dozing in the seats behind him, but Hotch is awake at the other end of the plane. The small lamp is spreading a pool of light over the files open on the table.

Standing, Reid makes his way silently to Hotch's table and stands by it. "Um, can I…" he trails off, waving a hand at the empty seat across from Hotch.

Hotch looks up at him and nods. "Of course." Hotch studies him for a minute. "Are you okay?"

Reid shakes his head. "No…I tried to sleep but I keep seeing…Owen and Ryan. Nathan. Hankel," he whispers, shivering as he says the last name. "I need…distraction, something." Reid hates how desperate he sounds.

Hotch nods, closing the files in front of him. "Cards?"

"No, JJ has my deck and she's asleep."

"I don't have one," Hotch pauses for a moment. "The book game?"

Reid nods. "Yeah, anything will do," he says gratefully. He watches as Hotch digs through his bag and pulls out a couple books. "Thank you," he says.

"Never a problem. You've read both of these?"

Reid looks at the titles; _The Stand_, revised edition by Stephen King and _Sex-Related Homicide and Death Investigation: Practical and Clinical Perspectives_. "Yes, I've read them. Stephen King?"

"I've enjoyed his work for years. I'm re-reading this one, it's one of my favourites," Hotch replies. He lowers the two books below the table so that Reid can't see them. He opens one and reads, 'There was silent heat lightning.'"

Reid closes his eyes for a moment. "_The Stand_, page 628, chapter 49. 'When Lucy Swann woke up it was fifteen minutes to midnight by the ladies' Pulsar watch she wore. There was silent heat lightning in the west where the mountains were—the _Rocky_ Mountains." Reid continues until he has finished reading the whole page aloud to Hotch.

"Didn't miss anything," Hotch says with a grin. He flips through both books again. "'So, he returned to the creek…'"

Reid again closes his eyes. "_Sex-Related Homicide_, page 385…" Again, he reads the page aloud.

They continue on with the game for almost an hour, until Reid says, "Enough."

"You'll be able to rest now?"

Reid nods and smiles. "Thanks, Hotch."

"You're welcome," Hotch replies. He pulls out the folder he had been working on, but finds that he's watching Reid as the younger man settles back against his seat, eyes closing and breathing slowing and evening out as he falls asleep.

After a few minutes of inattention to his work, Hotch sets it aside; he's too distracted to focus, too worried about Reid. Leaning back in his seat, he thinks about Reid while watching him sleep. He knows that the restlessness means that Reid's craving the drugs again…it's why they started playing the book game in the first place.

Shortly after Reid had kicked the drugs (and that was a week Hotch knows he'll never forget but he hates thinking about), they'd been away on a case and Reid had started getting antsy. They'd been sharing a room that time and when they'd returned to the hotel, Reid had told him what was wrong, had told Hotch he needed a distraction…. Hotch had had a dictionary with him that time and started asking Reid definitions and it had grown from there. Sometimes, playing cards or chess was enough, other times, it wasn't.

Sometimes it meant that Hotch would be up half the night, but deep down, he felt it was the least he could do. After all, if he hadn't sent Reid with JJ to the Hankel farm, then none of this would have happened…would be happening.

The logical part of him recognises that there was no way he could've known before he sent them out, that Hankel was the one they were looking for. But the part of him that cares for Reid (*Too much* the voice in his head whispers, but he ignores it.), the part of him that is the leader of the team can't stop feeling guilty for what happened; for feeling the whole situation was his fault. If he'd gone with Reid or if he'd sent Morgan…or even Prentiss…then Reid would not have gone through the hell he had.

Hotch shakes his head, trying to clear it. He knows the guilt is somewhat misplaced, but it's who he is, how he is…. Hotch had been surprised to find out that Reid hadn't blamed him, never had and was puzzled that Hotch blamed himself.

Sighing, Hotch forces the thoughts from his head and closes his eyes to get some rest, if not some sleep, for the rest of the flight home.

Two days later  
Beltway Clean Cops

Reid walks to the front of the room slowly. He's not sure what he's going to say although he knows what he _should_ say. This is only his second meeting and he wonders if it will ever get any easier. As he walks to the centre of the stage, he seeks out John and the other man nods at him in encouragement.

Licking his lips and clearing his throat, Reid begins. "Um, hi. My name is Spencer and I'm…I'm an addict." As the group says "Hi" to him, Reid is both relieved and terrified by his admission. Just a few days ago, he couldn't even admit to himself that he was an addict and now he was telling a roomful of mostly strangers. Somehow, that made it harder and easier at the same time.

Shoving his hands in his pockets, Reid continues. "This is only my second meeting…and the first time, I couldn't even call myself an addict. I didn't want to really believe it, I guess. I, ah, was having cravings for Dilaudid; I couldn't get the image of a kid that was killed in front me, a kid I tried to save out of my mind. I just wanted to forget and I knew how to fix that. But fixing it would've ruined me. I knew that then, I still know it.

"Then I was on another case and this time, I managed to save a kid—from himself and suicide by cop…and I thought that having one in the win column would…get rid of the craving, would change how I felt about things. That somehow it would make up for the kid who died in front of me, that it would kill the cravings….

"But it didn't. I still had them, still do, and it's so tempting to fall back into the drug use, to take comfort in the nothingness. But I know if I do, I'll lose everything I've worked for and…and I don't want that. I thought I was managing okay on my own. Well, not totally on my own, I have a friend who's helped me a lot, but he's not an addict, he doesn't truly understand, even though he tries. I know now I can't do this by myself and, ah, it's been hard for me to admit that, to come here, but now I do and…I'm pretty sure I can make it," Reid says, shifting his feet. "Um, that's…thanks," he finishes quickly and scurries to his seat next to John.

He closes his eyes and takes a couple of deep breaths as the next person gets up to talk. When John touches his arm, Reid jumps and looks at him.

"You did fine, Spencer. Relax. No one here will judge you, you know that," John whispers.

Reid nods. "I know, it's just…hard. Thanks."

After the meeting is over, John looks at Reid. "Wanna go and get some good coffee?" he asks.

Reid smiles, looking at the tepid coffee in his Styrofoam cup. "Yeah, that sounds good."

They walk to a small coffee shop up the road from the church. John buys their coffee and they settle into a booth near the window. Both men are silent for a few minutes as they sip their drinks.

"You took a pretty big step tonight, Spencer. Probably the hardest and one of the biggest ones, admitting you're an addict."

Reid doesn't speak for a moment; he looks out the window at the night darkened street, sees a few people walking by. He turns his head and looks at John. "Yeah. I guess before…before this latest case I thought I was _different_, you know? I mean, it's not like I chose to use drugs—it was…well, I'm sure you know what happened." At John's nod, he continues. "I guess I figured it wasn't the same, I couldn't be an addict because I didn't choose it…." Reid shrugs as he trails off.

"But then you realised that you _did_ choose to continue taking them, right? And there are a lot of people who get hooked on drugs like Dilaudid after they're prescribed them. They didn't choose it either," John says quietly.

Reid nods. "I know. Hotch tried to tell me that—" he stops when he realises that if he tells John that Hotch _knew_ Reid was using and didn't report it….

John reaches over and touches Reid's wrist. "Remember what I said. Here, I'm just 'John' and you're just 'Spencer'. I've known Aaron Hotchner for years and I knew about it, but I agreed with Aaron's call in the situation. You're an asset to the Bureau…and you got yourself cleaned up. I've rarely known Aaron to make a bad call when it comes to his team."

"How did you know what was going on—Strauss?" Reid asks.

"Erin Strauss? Yeah, she mentioned it to me, but I don't need her to get my information. I pretty much know everything that goes on, it seems to go with the job," John says with a grin. "Aaron's a good man, you're lucky to have him as a friend."

"Yeah, he is," Reid says softly. Realising that John might see more than he wants him to, Reid sits up and looks at his watch. "I really should go. It's been a long night and I'm tired. You must want to get home to your family."

"It's okay—both my kids are grown and my wife expects me to be late on meeting nights. It was good to talk to you," John says. "Oh, before you go, take this," he adds, handing Reid his card. "If you'd like, I'll be your sponsor—if you need anything, night or day, just call me."

Reid looks at him in surprise. "I…thank you," he says, taking the card and looking at the numbers on it. His brow furrows as he stares at it. "What if I can't reach you?" he asks.

"Then you talk to Aaron—he may not understand, but he can certainly listen and that's better than nothing. Or get yourself to a meeting if it's really bad. I make it a habit to know where the NA meetings are in any city I'm going to visit. And if there's no NA chapter, well, they almost always have an AA meeting—and that's better than nothing. While the drugs may be different, the addiction's the same," John says, standing.

Reid gets up and reaches out to shake John's hand. "Okay. And thanks. Again," he says, feeling shy once more.

John clasps his shoulder. "You're welcome. Oh, do you need a drive home?"

"No, I'm fine, I've got my car tonight."

"Good night, Spencer and take care."

Reid smiles. "I will. Good night," he says as he leaves the coffee shop.

 

Three weeks later

Hotch steers the SUV through rush hour traffic in Baltimore—the team is heading home after another case; another one that will go in the "lose" column, or would if Hotch kept track of their cases in that manner.

Rossi is dozing in the passenger seat and Reid is sitting behind him, eyes closed, but foot and leg jerking rapidly and Hotch wants nothing more than to talk to him, ask if he's okay. He can't, not with Rossi in the car and even if he weren't, Hotch isn't sure Reid would talk to him.

This last case had remarkable similarities to the Owen Savage case; only this time, the unsub had ended up being a 14 year old girl, Saralynn Cousins. She'd been a quiet, intelligent girl, already in her senior year, but bullied by her parents and older brother and by the "popular" girls at school—she'd taken her anger out by killing the people who'd hurt her.

Over the course of a few days, she'd killed the members of her family and several members of the clique that had been tormenting her, the group of girls she'd wanted nothing more from than to belong. The media had dubbed her the "Heathers killer". She'd ended up committing suicide by cop—they'd found her in her parents' house and she'd come out shooting.

Hotch sighs. Reid wasn't as affected by this case as he had been by Owen Savage—or at least if he was, he was hiding it better. Glancing at Rossi and seeing that he's asleep, Hotch asks quietly, "You okay, Reid?"

Reid's leg stops moving for a moment as his eyes open and he stares blankly at Hotch. "Yeah, I'm fine. Why wouldn't I be?" he says snidely before closing his eyes again.

Hotch clenches his jaw but lets it go; he'll try and talk to Reid later, when they can be alone. He turns his attention back to the road and the rest of the ride is made in silence.

As the team walks slowly into the bullpen, Hotch looks at his watch, then at them. "Look, it's after six and it's Friday. We can finish things up on Monday—why don't you all head home. This was hard one."

The others nod and murmur their thanks—all except Reid, who sits down at his desk and pulls out some folders, obviously intending to work. Hotch frowns but says nothing; he doesn't have any reason to force Reid to go home.

Hotch goes into his office and shuts the door; he has nothing to go home to so he might as well get some work done.

An hour later and he's checking on Reid for the third time, looking out through the blinds on his window. Reid is staring at the folder on his desk, tapping the pen in his hand.

Hotch glances at the pile of folders on his desk and then back at Reid. "Fuck it," he mutters. He grabs his things and puts on his coat. He leaves his office and walks down to pause behind Reid's desk.

Reid looks over his shoulder at Hotch; he looks tired and sad. "Hotch?" he asks wearily.

"I'm heading out—do you want to come over for supper?"

Reid shrugs. "I've got a lot—"

"Reid, I'm your boss, I know how much work you have to do. And as your boss, I'm telling you it can wait til Monday," Hotch says. "I don't want to eat alone and as your friend, I'm telling you I'd like your company."

Reid looks surprised and then he gives Hotch a small smile. "Um. Okay. Yeah, that sounds nice, just let me get my stuff…."

Hotch leans against Morgan's desk and watches Reid. Once he's ready, the two of them walk out to Hotch's car together.

On the way to Hotch's place, Reid starts spouting statistics for rush hour traffic and cars and idling and several other things, switching from topic to topic as he thinks of it. He can't stand the quiet and figures that if he keeps filling the silence, Hotch won't ask him how he's doing again. He doesn't want to discuss it yet; not with Hotch, not with the support group, not with anyone. Talking keeps him from thinking about Saralynn, lying dead on the ground.

As they make their way up to Hotch's condo, Reid keeps waiting for him to ask him about it, ask if he's okay and Hotch doesn't. As they're walking toward Hotch's door, a thought strikes Reid. "You're going to cook?"

Hotch chuckles. "Yeah, I thought I'd barbeque a couple steaks and some potato slices. That okay?"

Reid nods. "Sounds good, I just figured we'd get take out," he says, shrugging.

"Not tonight," Hotch says, unlocking his front door. He walks in, with Reid following him and hangs up his jacket, putting his work things away. As Reid is taking off his shoes, Hotch says, "I'm gonna get changed. Make yourself at home. There's beer in the fridge, or if you want to make coffee, go ahead."

"Um, thanks," Reid says. He walks through the condo into the kitchen, deciding that a beer would be perfect right now. He wanders back into the living room with his beer, sipping it as he looks over the books and other items on the shelves that line one wall of the room.

"You're not profiling me, are you, Spencer?" Hotch says, amused. Leaning against the door jamb, he's smiling at Reid.

Reid jumps when he Hotch speaks. He looks at the other man, taking in how good he looks, dressed in a white t-shirt and blue jeans. He's barefoot which surprises Reid, although he knows it shouldn't. "No, I was just looking around. I haven't been here since we helped you move in. It's nice."

"Thanks," Hotch replies. "Why don't you come help me get the food ready?"

"Okay," Reid says. "But you'll have to show me what to do. I don't do a lot of cooking." Hotch laughs as they walk into the kitchen.

It doesn't take long to prepare their meal and Reid is pleased to spend time with Hotch. Whenever he's not doing some part of the prep work, Reid watches Hotch; he's envious of the older man's comfort with his body, something Reid has never had and figures he'll probably never have much of. Every once in a while their eyes meet and Hotch smiles or grins at him, a gentle look in his gaze. Reid wishes it could be more than that…but knows that he'll settle for their friendship—it's one of the better things in his life right now.

They take their time eating dinner—the conversation is casual but interesting and even though Reid goes off on some statistical tangents a few times, Hotch doesn't seem to mind. Reid realises later that he almost seems to encourage it. Reid wonders, briefly, if Hotch enjoys listening to them. He'll have to ask someday.

As they're clearing the table and loading the dishwasher, Hotch finally asks the question, the one Reid's been waiting for since Hotch invited him to dinner.

"Spencer, are you okay?"

Reid wants to lie to him, to say he's fine. Instead, he finds himself yelling. "How many more cases like this are we going to have? How long is it going to take for people to fucking wake up? Kids are killing kids because of fucking bullying. Nobody's doing anything about it! And it's not bad enough they have to suffer it at school, but kids like Saralynn and Owen get it from their families! From the people who are supposed to protect them!"

Pacing back and forth now, Reid continues, his voice quiet. "I was bullied and nobody ever did anything about it. I couldn't tell anyone and my mom…well, at least she had an excuse for not doing anything…sometimes I just want to walk away, never come back. It makes me want the drugs even more, Hotch. I just want to forget—forget that I ever heard about these kids…. I don't want to see more kids die in front of me and I know that I will and it's just never going to stop—" He stops moving, stops talking and his back is to Hotch.

Hotch walks over and stands behind him putting a hand on his shoulder. "Spencer—"

"I just want it to stop! Everything, just fucking stop!" Reid says and his shoulders shake as he starts crying. "Fuck!" he mutters.

Hotch moves in front of Reid before pulling him into a hug. He doesn't say anything, just holds him, gently rubbing his back, letting him cry. It breaks his heart to see Reid like this and he wishes there was something more he could do. But there isn't, so he holds Reid.

After a few minutes, Reid's almost stopped crying. His breath is still a little ragged and he's sniffling but at least his body has stopped shaking. When he lifts his head from Hotch's shoulder, his eyes are red and puffy; he reaches up and wipes at his eyes…but he doesn't move out of the circle of Hotch's arms.

"God, you must think I'm pathetic, breaking down like this," Reid says, voice low and he's unable to look at Hotch.

"No, I don't. I think you're human and you've gone through more than your fair share of shit in the last year."

"You'd never break down like this," Reid says.

Hotch keeps one arm around Reid, moving his other hand to tilt Reid's chin up. "If I'd been through what you have, I might. And there's nothing wrong with crying—it's hardly breaking down. It doesn't mean you're weak. I don't think you're weak—you're one of the strongest people I know," Hotch says quietly.

"Really?" Reid whispers, finally meeting Hotch's gaze.

"Yeah, really," Hotch says. Reid is looking at him, searching his face for something…and he must find it because moments later, Reid leans in and presses his mouth gently against Hotch's.

Hotch's eyes close as he returns the kiss, although he's wondering how he missed this, missed Reid's attraction to him. Not much of a profiler was he? Unless he had noticed and had just ignored it…. Any further thoughts Hotch might've had on the subject are pushed out of his head when he feels Reid's tongue licking slowly over his lips.

Hotch groans, opening his mouth, sliding his tongue across Reid's into his mouth. He wonders if they should stop, if Reid's emotions are getting the better of him, but when Reid pushes him back against the counter, hands tugging on Hotch's t-shirt, Hotch realises it's probably not an issue.

The two of them keep kissing as Hotch unbuttons Reid's shirt and Reid yanks on Hotch's t-shirt. They stop long enough for Reid to pull Hotch's shirt over his head and for Hotch to push Reid's shirt off of him.

Reid grabs Hotch's shoulders bringing their bodies together and they're kissing again, mouths open, tongues swiping and licking, tasting each other. Hotch wraps his arms around Reid's waist, letting his hands move under Reid's pants, hands sliding over the warm skin of his ass. Reid's hips jerk forward, pressing his hard cock against Hotch's and both of them moan.

"Bedroom," Hotch whispers as he drags his mouth from Reid's, kissing and licking along his jaw to his neck. They move in a ragged dance down the hallway, urgency in their movements, but their embrace making them falter and slowing them down. Hotch nuzzles at the soft skin of Reid's neck, licking at it, nipping it, making Reid gasp and moan, making his hips thrust.

"Oh, god, Aaron, I want you, so much," Reid whispers against his ear, tongue slipping out to lick at the shell, his warm breath over the damp skin sending shudders through Hotch's body. Reid's hands seem to be everywhere; rubbing Hotch's arms, sliding over his back, down to cup his ass through the heavy denim fabric, back up to guide Hotch's head so they can kiss again.

Finally, they reach the master bedroom. Hotch steps back from Reid for a moment; both of them are panting and while Hotch wants nothing more than Reid, he has to ask. "Are you sure, Spencer? I don't want you to—"

"I'm very sure, more sure that I want you, want this, than I have been of anything else in the past few months," he says quietly, staring at Hotch.

Hotch nods and undoes his jeans, pushing them down with his boxers and stepping out of them. Reid quickly gets his own pants undone and taken off; he steps out of his socks and is standing naked in front of an equally naked Hotch.

Smiling, Hotch draws him into his arms, kissing him as they walk over to the bed; Reid groans when their cocks rub together and his deepens the kiss with Hotch, wanting, needing more of him. When the back of Reid's knees hit the bed, he falls backward and turns so that his head is on the pillows. Pulling Hotch down on top of him and loving the feeling of his heaviness on top of him, Reid stares at him, hazel eyes dilated with desire. "Please, fuck me, now, please!" Reid says in a ragged whisper as Hotch nips and licks at the skin of his throat.

Hotch moves up and reaches over to the nightstand drawer, grabbing the tube of lube he keeps there. He's divorced; he's had to take things into his own hands on more than one occasion. "Have you done this before?" he asks quietly, mouth against Reid's ear.

Reid nods. "Been awhile, but I'm not a virgin," he replies before licking and sucking along Hotch's throat.

Hotch moans and moves to kneel between Reid's now spread legs. He squeezes some lube onto his fingers and slowly pushes one inside his lover. Reid moans, eyes closing and hips pushing down. Hotch adds as second finger, leaning down to suck on one of Reid's nipples, making him gasp. Hooking his fingers as he slid them in and out of Reid's ass, Hotch brushes his prostate and Reid shouts, arching off the bed. Hotch drags his teeth along the nipple in his mouth as he releases before sucking the other one into his mouth, tongue and teeth playing with it.

"Aaron, please, do it, fuck me, please," Reid gasps.

Hotch smiles as he kneels again; he pulls his fingers out of Reid's ass. He spreads lube over his cock, his own touch making him gasp—he wants Reid so much. He pushes his cock inside his lover, going slowly, not wanting to hurt him.

Reid lifts his legs, wrapping them around Hotch's hips at the same time he pushes his hips down, taking Hotch's length inside him quickly. Hotch gasps as Reid moans.

Hotch pulls almost all the way out before slamming his cock back inside his lover. He keeps the pace slow at first, but with the noises and movements Reid is making, he starts moving faster. He leans forward and kisses Reid; a tongue filled, gasping kiss.

Reaching between them, Hotch starts stroking Reid's cock hard and fast, the same way he's fucking him. Hotch knows that he's going to come soon; it's been so long since he's felt this good having sex.

"Oh, Aaron, I'm gonna –fuck!" Reid shouts as he comes, spurting over Hotch's hand.

Reid's orgasm is enough to send Hotch over his own edge. "Spencer, oh god, so good, so good! Yes, fuck, yes," Hotch moans. His hips are jerking as he pushes hard into Reid, coming inside his lover.

He collapses on top of Reid and they rest, catching their breath, nuzzling and kissing each other. After a few minutes, Hotch rolls off of Reid, his now soft cock sliding out of his lover's ass and Reid sighs. Reaching over to the nightstand, Hotch grabs a couple tissues and cleans them both up, before pulling the blankets up.

Reid cuddles up to Hotch, moving closer when Hotch wraps his arms around him. Reid slides a leg over Hotch's and leans in to kiss him gently. "Mmm. Thank you…I…liked it," Reid says sleepily.

Hotch smiles at him and kisses him back. "Good, cus I liked it too," he says. "Let's get some sleep, okay?" Hotch chuckles when a soft snuffling sound is his only answer. Holding Reid tight, Hotch soon follows him into sleep.

The next morning, Hotch wakes up with Reid wrapped around him and he smiles—it feels so right, so good. He watches Reid sleep for a few minutes and then the younger man shifts in his sleep, rolling onto his back and his half hard cock brushes against Hotch's thigh.

Hotch's smile turns to a grin as he moves down the bed, pressing soft kisses here and there over Reid's body while his hands stroke over his slender form; memorising, arousing. Hotch licks the head of Reid's cock, tongue swirling around the end, slicking the underside of it before he slides his mouth down it, slowly, so very slowly.

Reid awakens and his hips jerk; he moans before he even realises what is going on. His fingers clutch in Hotch's short hair, seeking purchase and not finding any. "Oh, god, Aaron, fuck, yes," he murmurs as his brain finally catches up with what's going on.

His breathing is faster, he's panting now as his hips thrust a little faster, pushing his cock deeper into Hotch's mouth. Hotch lets Reid fuck his mouth, loving the taste of his lover's cock. When Hotch reaches up and caresses Reid's balls with his hand, Reid shouts, his body arching, fingers tightening on Hotch's head as he comes, hips jerking as he spurts his come into Hotch's mouth.

Hotch swallows and as Reid's body relaxes, licks his cock clean. He moves up the bed, kissing his drowsy lover, tongue pushing into Reid's mouth. Reid moans, opening to Hotch's kiss, wrapping his arms around Hotch's shoulders, pulling him closer.

Reid's eyes open slowly when he feels the press of Hotch's erection against his thigh. He smiles languorously, one hand moving down to wrap around Hotch's cock, stroking it slowly but firmly, running his thumb gently over the head before sliding down the shaft.

Groaning, Hotch's eyes close as his head tilts back. "Spence, yes, fuck that's it. Don't, oh, don't stop," he gasps, hips thrusting as he tries to get more.

Reid tightens his hand on Hotch's cock, stroking him harder and faster. He pulls Hotch's head down to his own, claiming Hotch's mouth in an open mouthed, tongue filled kiss. Hotch moans into their kiss and whimpers in the back of his throat as he pushes his cock harder against Reid's hand. A few seconds later, he breaks the kiss with Reid, burying his face against Reid's neck, muffling his shout of completion as he comes, hips jerking, come surging over Reid's hand.

Reid cups the back of Hotch's head with one hand, holding him close as he comes. When Hotch is done, Reid lifts his hand up, licking Hotch's come off of it and grins at his lover's gasp.

"Damn it, if I hadn't just come, that would make me hard," Hotch whispers against Reid's ear.

Reid laughs as he settles in close to Hotch, wrapping an arm around his waist as he leans his head on his shoulder. "I could get used to waking up this way, yanno," he says with a chuckle.

Hotch kisses the top of his head. "I'd…I wouldn't mind it becoming a regular thing," he replies.

Reid pulls back and looks at Hotch inquisitively. "Really?"

Hotch smiles. "Yeah. Really. I mean, if you want to…"

And Reid's smile, followed by a passionate kiss is the only answer that Hotch needs.

 

_But I know my past, you were there  
In everything I've done, you are the one_  
"5 Days in May"—Blue Rodeo


End file.
